"Perhaps I prefer to go uphill," said Ilya, peevishly.
"Of course, uphill," Terenti caught up his words. "That's what I meant; it's an easy life—that's what I meant; why, uphill, of course, to the very top."
"And when I'm there, what then?"
The hunchback looked at him and chuckled. Then he spoke again, but Ilya did not listen. He was thinking of all his experiences of this later time, and figuring to himself how evenly all life hangs together, like the strings in a net. Circumstances surround men and lead them where they will, as the police do the rogues. He had always had it in his mind to leave this house and live by himself, and now here chance comes to his aid! He was still thinking how he would plan out his life alone, when there came a sudden knock at the door.
"Open it!" cried Ilya crossly to his uncle, who was shaking with fear.
The hunchback drew back the bolts and Jakov appeared, a great, red-brown book in his hand.
"Ilya, come to Mashutka!" he said quickly, and advanced to the bed.
"What's wrong with her?" said Ilya hastily.
"With her? I don't know, she's not at home."
"Where does she always go gadding to in the evenings?" asked the hunchback in a tone of annoyance.